Control
by MaladaptiveDaydreamer
Summary: Dexter/OCfemale - Since when did the prey seek out the hunter? When the prey knows the hunter's secret, perhaps?
1. Prologue

Prologue

Her eyes began to flicker as a bright, white light beamed down onto her face. She opened her mouth, hastily trying to swallow down as much oxygen as possible; the thick, hot air not satisfying the need to fill her lungs with deep, fresh breath. As her eyes slowly began to focus on the ceiling above her, her stiff neck stifled her attempt to move, causing her head to throb and her entire body to shake in pain. It wasn't long before she realised her body had been restrained to the hard surface below her, and it wasn't her neck, but her head that had been stuck in place.

The sound of calm footsteps moving towards her was drowned in the rustling of plastic. Her eyes flickered in panic, straining to see as much of what was happening as possible.

"Hello Rowan" said a quiet, male voice. He spoke slow and calm, with a voice smooth like silk "I was starting to worry I'd given you an overdose" the voice was growing closer as the footsteps continued again

"You have to listen to me" she croaked in fear as her heart thumped against her tightly bound chest

"No" he said through gritted teeth, anger seeping through his voice as he spoke "did you listen to what these men had to say before you slit their throats?" he enunciated menacingly as he grabbed her face and forced it in the direction of a shelf which held four pictures of four men–cold, pale and dead "I didn't think so." He finished after a short silence.

The room was covered in plastic; every inch of wall, every square foot of floor, even the ceiling was coated in the suffocating, transparent material.

"Please" she breathed before an icy-cold sting across her right cheek rendered her speechless. Rowan stared up at him, watching as he squeezed her blood onto a small glass slide, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as his steady hand placed another slide on top, forcing the blood to expand into a perfect circle between the two.

"See the thing is, miss Pearce, you have _never_ admitted to what you did –you weren't even brought into question during the investigation" he said in a cool tone as he placed the slide into his pocket and crouched down so that he was leaning over her face. She stared up, her eyes darting from his mouth, to his hair, to his nose, to the stubble across his jaw, then finally to his intense, green eyes. He stared back, right into hers as if digging for some kind of truth behind them. His eyes narrowed in confusion –curiosity, as he focused his gaze on her left eye, then her right, then her left…

"Your eyes are different colors" he mumbled as he examined her "hm" he uttered in a 'well look at that' kind of tone, before standing up and walking over to the table he had carefully set up with tools, knifes, and a helmet with a large, plastic, snap-down face guard. He picked up the helmet and slipped it on before turning around to face Rowan.

"You have to listen to me, I didn't do it" she said sternly as she watched him step towards her holding a large knife

"And you're still not going to admit to what you did?" he said in a sarcastically disappointed tone

"I didn't- I didn't do it, I swear" she stammered in a desperate, gravelly voice "you don't understand" he was standing over her now, looking down at her face from behind her head "I knew you'd figure it out, I knew you'd catch me"

He cocked his head to one side in pity of her poor attempt to survive

"Please, I didn't do it. But I wanted to." She continued her plea "please… Dexter."

Panic fled threw his body like electricity

"how do you know my name?"


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Dexter raised his knife slowly before harshly slicing down through the plastic wrapping which was keeping Rowan in place on the table. Her heart skipped as she took a sharp intake of breath, eventually allowing herself to exhale in relief.

"Tell me who the fuck you are and how you know my name" Dexter ordered as he paced around the plastic covered room, knife still in hand.

"Rowan Pearce – 27 – sociopath" she stated, almost like she was addressing an AA meeting.

He stopped pacing and turned his head sharply to look at her; she was extremely slim and unbelievably pale for someone who lived in Miami, her wavy, chestnut-brown hair hung in knots down to the middle of her back, while her eyes were piercing -almost haunting as her left iris smouldered a luminous vivid green and her right, an intense powder blue.

"How do you know who I am?" he asked in a deep, carnal voice as he emphasised every word, almost spitting them out as he paced slowly towards her. He was growing impatient, the desire to kill her still radiating inside him.

She sat up carefully covering her breasts with her arm while the plastic wrap still hung around her waist like a skirt "I've been watching you, Dexter. I know what you do, and I need to know… how"

"How?"

"Yes, 'how'" she answered. Her voice had a slight gravelly tone which made her words seem even more intense "I've never killed anybody Dexter. But I want to so _fucking_ bad"

"You killed these men" Dexter argued as he charged towards her, pointing his knife at the pictures he had set up on the shelf. He stopped so their faces were almost close enough to touch, the confusion twisting lines into his brow as he searched her face for some kind of clue

"No, I didn't. I set this up so that you'd find me"

"how?"

"I waited until the cases closed and then I tampered with the records; I put things in them which pointed to _me_ as the killer. It was only a matter of time before you did your snooping and figured it out" Rowan explained

"How do you know what I am -what I do?" he asked in his same, intense yet calm voice

"I've known what you are since I watched you murder my shrink four years ago" she admitted unemotionally

"Meridian" Dexter murmured

"Yes, Dr. Emmett Meridian - 'manipulator extraordinaire'"

"how do you-"

"it was beautiful, Dexter" she interrupted, admiration bubbling in her voice "the way you-" she stopped before gazing up into his perplexed stare "I felt the _thrill, _the thrill I only ever feel when thinking about death… pain, _blood_" she pushed the last word out through passionately gritted teeth "you made me feel more alive in those few moments than that asshole did in three years"

"you were watching" he repeated with a blank expression "and you liked it"

"Dexter if you don't teach me to do what you do then I'm going to end up hurting someone who doesn't deserve it".

**XXX**

They sat in Dexter's car which was parked outside his chosen 'kill location'; it was pitch black and the suburban streets were completely empty. Rowan had gotten her clothes back from him after he had begun tearing the plastic coverings down; she was finally wearing her jogging shorts again, along with her loose, grey vest top and running shoes –the idea of getting into the routine of jogging so Dexter had an opportunity to attack her was one she possessed a silent pride for.

"Do you realise how… rare it is for women to possess a… needless desire to kill?" Dexter said slowly as he stared out of the window ahead of him

"Yes, but… I think I can restrain it. I just need guidance" she explained as she too focused on the view ahead of them

"How did you tamper with the case files?" Dexter asked

"I work for the FBI" Rowan laughed, knowing how ironically funny her job was

Dexter turned his head with a wide-eyed expression "no fucking way" he whispered.

There was a silence between the two for a moment; it was comfortable, probably because neither of them possessed any emotions to feel awkward or nervous.

"Say you'll help me" Rowan leaned across to Dexter in hope.

**XXX**

He opened the door to his apartment and sauntered inside coolly before walking over to the sink and pulling Rowan's blood slide out of his pocket. He ran the hot water for a moment and began to wash the slide clean as he allowed his mind to run away…

_A 'protégé'? Could I? But what if she's crazy- Dexter she gets off on murder, of course she's crazy you idiot. Of course there were easier ways for her to get my attention, was framing herself and risking her life really necessary? Then again, would I really have listened if she'd have walked up to me in the street? "Hey, Dex; killed anyone today?" Of course I wouldn't have listened._

_I can't lie and say she doesn't… intrigue me. She knows the monster inside of me, she let me see hers; they're the same. Except hers hasn't hurt anyone yet. I guess it shouldn't be hard to teach her some control. _


	3. Hello

Hello wonderful readers,

I would just like to thank everyone who has read and/or followed this story. As you are probably aware, I haven't updated in a very long time. This is because I haven't properly thought through where I am taking this one, which I really should have, and I apologise to those waiting for more. So I have decided to take this story down and re upload it when I have a clearer idea of what I want it to turn out like.

As I said, I sincerely apologise to anybody who has been anticipating another chapter, or taken the time to review/follow this. But I think it is only fair that I post a story that you will all enjoy and that I can be proud of.

If anyone is interested in reading anything else of mine then please go and take a look at Forbidden. If not, see you and this story soon.

Thank you,

Maladaptive Daydreamer


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